


Dirty Mouth, Dirty Mind, Pretty Little Head

by punkrockgaia



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Pre-Carlos, Smoking, angsty, creepy guys in bars, my Cecil's kind of a mess, not really dubcon but kinda coercive sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 04:50:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1538231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockgaia/pseuds/punkrockgaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Earl left once before. It hurt. Pre-Carlos early 20s fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Mouth, Dirty Mind, Pretty Little Head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [videntefernandez](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=videntefernandez).



> I haven't written any CecEarl in a while! Fit this into any canon you please. Make Cecil look however you wish, but if you want to see my conception of him, know that I stole him from VidenteFernandez. (videntefernandez.tumblr.com) :)

_It's hard to put on eyeliner when you can't look in a mirror, but you manage. You have true grit, plus a minor talent for clairvoyance. The lipgloss is easier. You take the makeup, the contact lenses (expensive due to your unusual prescription and special circumstances, and probably not the most sensible purchase, but sensible's never really been your thing), the pants (cheap and plasticky but plenty tight and riding low on the hips) and the shirt (clingy and soft, riding high on the belly), lace up the boots and there you have it, an ensemble. You briefly consider staying in, making an early night of it for a change. Then you think about spending the sleepless hours alone with your thoughts and feel a full-body wave of nausea. You grab the keys, your wallet, and your lighter, realize you're out of smokes, cuss creatively for a moment. You walk the half-block down the street to the convenience store. You gasp when you see who's standing at the gas pumps and set off at a sprint._

Earl dodged before his brain even consciously registered the movement in his peripheral vision. A pile of gawky arms and legs pinwheeled past him, tripped, then landed at his feet with an "oof." Earl's jaw dropped open.

"Oh, my Gods, Cecil, are you okay?"

Cecil rolled over onto his behind and scowled at him. "Why'd you jump out of the way?"

Earl squatted until he was face-to-face with him. He looked different, but he couldn't put his finger on how. "I'm sorry, Cee. It's just reflexes." 

"Hrmph. That's a fine way to treat your best friend."

Earl felt a lump in his throat at "best friend." Could he even say that any more? "Sorry, sorry. I wasn't expecting to see you."

"Well, maybe that's because I didn't know you were back in town."

"Cecil. I sent you letters. You never answered them. I called, but your phone's been disconnected."

"Yeeaaahhh, about that. I've been busy, right? The mail piles up, and then things get buried in the pile, and then stuff, and thing, and..." He made a vague gesture. "You could have stopped by, though. I'm in the same place."

"I was going to, but I haven't had time. I just got in this afternoon, for real." That wasn't quite true, he'd actually gotten in the day before, but he **had** honestly been planning to go visit Cecil, once he'd gotten his nerve up.

"Sure, whatever. Anyway, are you going to help me up, or am I going to sit on the asphalt all night?"

"Oh! Oh, sorry, yeah, let me help you." Earl offered Cecil a hand and pulled him to a standing position. "Are you all right?"

"Nothing's broken, I don't think. Do I look okay?" He held his arms out at his sides, obviously expecting Earl to make a thorough inspection.

Earl swallowed hard and tried to control his breathing. It wasn't the first time Cecil had asked him to act as a mirror for him, and logically it made sense, but Earl couldn't help but think that Cecil liked to be looked at, as well. And Earl couldn't lie, he didn't exactly mind looking at Cecil. 

Cecil had changed in the past six months. He was still gangly, and from the looks of things wasn't any more coordinated, but he'd become more of a man, somehow. He'd filled out more in the chest and shoulders, certainly, and his abdomen looked less concave and more toned than it had been, but it was more than that. It was something in the way he stood, in the way he existed in space, in the way he showed off his maturing body.

The Cecil that Earl had left behind in Night Vale primarily wore traditional tunics for fancy occasions; outdated, vaguely mothball-scented wool trousers and tweed vests that he'd rescued from the closets in his old house for class and for work; an oversized NVCC sweatshirt and pajama pants on his bad days. (Earl remembered Cecil getting smaller in his rearview mirror wearing that shirt; he'd wiped furtive tears from his cheeks with the long grey sleeves.) That old wardrobe seemed to have gone the way of the greater spined spiderwolf, though. The new Cecil wore combat boots, tight pants that looked like they were trying and failing to be leather, and a worn t-shirt that exposed a wide swath of skin around his navel, all in violently clashing colors. It should have been laughable, but it wasn't. His lips were pink and iridescent and looked like they tasted like bubblegum. His eyes were... 

His eyes were weird.

"Cecil, did you get colored contacts?"

Cecil batted his eyelashes, clearly pleased. "Oh, can you tell?"

"Yeah, uh, they're... different." Earl wasn't sure if he liked the change or not. He was used to seeing his old friend with his glasses on, and besides, he didn't know that a blank wash of emerald green improved upon his usual beautiful blank wash of opalescent white. The glittery gold stuff around them was nice, though. "They're... pretty. You look really good." 

The compliment seemed to lift Cecil's volatile mood, and he smiled and pulled Earl to him in a bear hug. "Thanks. Hey, what are you doing tonight?"

"Uh, I didn't have any plans, I guess?"

"You do now. You're going out with me."

"Um, sure, that's... okay. Where do you wanna go? White Sands?"

Cecil's groan rumbled from his chest and vibrated down Earl's spine. "Ugh, no, we're twenty-one, the night is beautiful, and I did _not_ get this dressed up to go for ice cream."

"Where _did_ you get dressed up to go, then?"

Cecil pulled back from him a bit and grinned into his face. "Old Town. Come on, it'll be fun."

Earl cringed. "Cecil, I'm in my uniform."

Cecil glanced down at him. "Oh. So you are. How come?"

"I had a meeting with Scoutmaster Davis. I can't go out like this."

"Sure, you can."

"Let me go home and change."

"No, you look fine. Let's go now. Please, Early?"

He'd never been to Old Town, but he was pretty sure that Scout uniforms weren't something people usually wore down there. But Cecil was still so close and so warm and he'd called him Early and he slipped away so easily... He nodded. "Okay, if you really think it'll be all right."

Cecil gave a little squeak of excitement and kissed Earl on the mouth.

Earl was right. His lips _did_ taste like bubblegum.

_You feel an urge to continue the kiss, to deepen it, but you force yourself to pull away. You made a promise to yourself when you saw Earl drive off in his truck six months ago. You promised yourself that if he came back, you'd just let things be and not complicate it any more, and promises like that weren't meant to be broken, at least not right away._

_You lied earlier. Yes, the mail had been piling up (bills, ugh, right?), but you set aside each and every one of Earl's letters and put them next to your bed. And every day, you told yourself you'd read them. And every time you sat down to read them, your heart would pound and your palms would sweat and you'd be absolutely certain that if you opened them, you'd read that he loved being away at school, that he had new, better friends, that he didn't need you, that he'd never needed you, that he was forgetting you more and more every day. That he was never coming home again. And the letters stayed unopened._

_But now, miracle of miracles, he's home, and he's waiting patiently in his truck while you run in the store to get cigarettes. You know you shouldn't have been a dick about letting him go home to change clothes, but then he would have insisted that you go inside to see his family while he did, and that good-old-down-home Harlan family togetherness makes you feel so lonely that you want to break things. Anyway, you just feel restless right now and every minute that ticks away without movement is agony. Besides, he really does look good in his uniform, in a "thank you for still being you" kind of way. Also in a "wow, you have incredibly spectacular calf muscles" kind of way, but judging from past experience, that might be a dangerous topic of discussion._

_You hop into the cab of the truck and slam the door shut behind you. The interior smells like bug repellent and sunscreen and sawmill gravy and fresh-baked biscuits. It smells like Earl. It's probably your favorite smell in the whole world. You scoot over across the bench seat and bury your nose in his neck and take a deep whiff. Earl squirms and you laugh, and you do not move back to your side of the seat. Instead, you give him directions to Old Town._

Earl's head spun as he put the truck into drive and followed Cecil's directions. It was surreal -- he'd planned on meeting with the Scoutmaster and then going on a brisk night hike by himself, but instead here he was, out for a night on the town with Cecil, who was practically sitting in his lap. It was just like old times, when they couldn't wait to tear each others' clothes off. He knew not to read too much into his flirtatiousness, though. He'd learned that lesson, and Mama Harlan didn't raise any fools. Still, it was enough to bring an almost-pleasurable ache of longing into his chest when Cecil's long fingers rested atop his own on the stick shift.

That ache had been precisely the reason he'd made the sudden decision to transfer to a school out-of-state to study forestry and conservation. He'd lied about his reasons to Cecil, of course, and to his mom, and his dad, and to the rest of his family, and to Scoutmaster, which was not very Scoutly of him, but it seemed more damaging to tell the truth. He'd hoped he could get away, could breathe some fresh air and meet some new people and wash his thoughts clean of the boy back home that would never really be his. 

It had worked, after a fashion. He'd gone on a few dates with a few boys and a few girls, and he'd had a good enough time. He had a lot in common with some of them -- more than he had in common with Cecil, for sure -- but the dates had always ended with no more than a peck on the cheek at the dorm room door. Then he'd go home and write to Cecil, long ardent letters telling him that he adored him, that he wanted to carry him away to some quiet cabin in the wilderness and make love to him for days on end, that he'd gladly give up all his badges and honors just to make him happy for a single moment.

Then he'd lose his nerve and tear those letters up and write boring, chatty replacements full of small-talk. ("The cafeteria here doesn't have Flaky-O's. Gross." "Somebody was trying to tell me the geology department has a course about mountains. Yeah, right...") Those were the letters he mailed, then he'd wait for a reply. After three months, he stopped waiting. He still sent Cecil letters, but they grew shorter and shorter. The last one had simply read "Coming home next week, see you then."

He didn't know if it made him feel better or worse to know that Cecil had misplaced all of his letters. On the one hand, it meant that he hadn't been deliberately ignoring him. On the other hand, disorganized as Cecil could be, it would have been nice if he'd perhaps taken a little care with the letters from his supposed "best friend," rather than letting them get mixed up with the phone bills he wasn't paying and the weekly Big Rico's flyers. Ah, well, some things never changed, he supposed. There was no use being upset. If he wasn't going to be able to make a clean break with Cecil, he might as well enjoy the time they had together. Cecil directed him to a spot outside of a dark building, Earl parked the truck, and they got out.

_You detach yourself from Earl's side and climb out of the truck to the sidewalk below. The air is cool, but the pavement is still radiating the heat it soaked up in the burning center of the day. You can see strobes and colored lights stutter inside the club, and music, loud and bass-heavy, pulses through the open door and you feel that wild, jittery excitement work its way up and down your body. Gods, yes. You take a few steps toward the low building and realize you're alone. You turn and see that Earl is hesitating. You reach your hand out to his and he takes it. You wrap his arm around your waist (Gods it feels so good so good thank you for coming back please don't leave me please), and the two of you walk up to the door together._

Earl winced as he approached the club. The small building appeared to be specifically designed to make him miserable.

For one thing, it was loud, so incredibly, aggressively loud, the kind of loud Earl suspected gave people internal organ damage. Even out on the sidewalk his eardrums hurt.

It was dark, but not the dark of the star-blasted void at night. It was a fake darkness, like it was there to hide bad activities, and the flashing lights couldn't compare to the beauty of the first rays of the sun on the dunes.

On top of all that, it smelled horrible. A wafting wave of smoke poured through the door, and from the smell of it, it wasn't all tobacco. Just beneath the smoke, there was a pervasive funk of desperate perspiration. Earl's nose wrinkled. He only liked the smell of smoke and sweat on one person.

Of course, that person was currently clinging to his side, and Earl could feel his body heat radiating through the softness of his shirt. Emboldened by his closeness, Earl let his fingertips play along the soft, smooth skin just above Cecil's hipbone, and he was rewarded with a purr that he felt rather than heard and a wiggling of warm flesh against him.

Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all. 

A bouncer sat just inside the door, and Cecil pulled away to speak with him for a few moments, gesturing at Earl and saying something that Earl couldn't quite make out. The bouncer looked him up and down with a sour expression, pondered for a moment, then nodded. Cecil beamed and kissed him on the cheek, then hooked Earl's index finger through his back pocket and bounced off into the club, dragging Earl behind him.

The further they went into the club, the worse it got. Earl found himself wishing that he had his demonology handbook with him, so that he could work out exactly which outer district of the Damned Netherworld he'd found himself in. Everywhere around him, bodies wriggled and writhed to the droning thuds that Earl supposed passed for music. Couples (mostly men) blatantly made out against walls, in booths, on the floor. He felt disgusted and mildly aroused by the whole thing. 

Cecil pirouetted in place, pulling Earl's arm around him again, pressing their bodies together. He brought his mouth close to Earl's ear, and his breath tickled the small, fine hairs there.

"Wanna dance?"

The tingling Earl had begun to feel in his feet and the weakness in his knees turned into a solid thump of dread in his stomach. He didn't dance, never did. It just -- no. No, no, no.

"Uh, how 'bout later? I'm, uh, thirsty."

Cecil pouted prettily for a moment, then smiled. "Okay, Early Bird, we'll dance later. Let's get us a drink."

_You keep a tight grip on Earl's hand as you lead him through the sea of bodies. You feel utterly at home here, in the skin and the smoke and the noise, but you know it's not Earl's scene, and you don't want him to be swallowed up in the undertow. Ah, it must be Kismet, there are actually two seats together at the bar. You shove through the crowd and perch on one uncomfortable plastic seat and motion for Earl to join you on the other. He sits, looking completely lost._

_He notices you before you notice him. You feel predatory eyes on you, and you turn to see an older, doughy guy with the worst toupee you've ever seen making a beeline to where you and Earl sit. You purse your lips and arch your spine and disentangle your fingers from Earl's and wait for the game to begin._

_Within moments, he's next to you, ugly toupee just slightly askew (was that thing moving?), sparkling stud earring in his left earlobe, dark pit stains on the light chambray shirt that he wears tucked into pleated khakis. Ugh._

_He leans in close, and whiskey-breath skates over your neck. "Hi there," he bellows over the music._

_"Hi," you reply, making eye contact and tilting your head just so._

_"I'm Randy."_

_You want to roll your eyes, but you chuckle instead. "I bet you are."_

_"Well, yes, but that's also my name. What's yours?"_

_"I'm Cecil, and this is my friend, Earl." You grab Earl's left biceps and give it a gentle squeeze._

_"Well hello, Cecil and Earl. Would you like to be my friends, too?"_

_"Gee, Randy, we'd love that. You know what's a fun thing for friends to do? Buy each other drinks."_

_Randy smirks and puts on a terrible Bogart impression. "I have a feeling this is going to be a beautiful friendship."_

_You want to slap him. You hate it when people misquote classic movies. But Randy waves toward the bartender and he puts two drinks in front of you and Earl, both a brilliant blue with steam rising off the top. You take a sip of it, and it feels like your brain jiggles a bit, then a pleasant warmth suffuses your muscles. You pull the cocktail stirrer out of the drink and turn to Randy. "Here's to beautiful friendships," you say, then run your tongue up the length of the stirrer. Randy's face is starting to sweat. Point, Cecil._

Earl sat and looked morosely at the drink in front of him. What the blazes could possibly be in it? It certainly wasn't natural, whatever it was. Whatever happened to good old spring water? 

He lifted the drink, then took a sniff of it. It singed his nostrils, and he quickly put it back down. He turned to ask Cecil what it was and if it were safe to actually consume it, but Cecil's back was to him, his attention entirely turned toward the older gentleman that had ordered them the drinks. As he watched, Cecil downed the rest of his drink, and the man ordered them two more. The bartender put Earl's second drink right next to his first one and cleared away Cecil's empty glass. Cecil picked up his drink and took a large gulp of it. 

Bored and lonely, Earl studied the man who'd walked up to them. He didn't look that intriguing, honestly. He looked like an office guy, and there was something weird about his hair. He was dressed okay, Earl guessed, except the earring looked a little silly and out of place. Cecil certainly seemed to be fascinated, though.

The man caught him staring, and winked. Earl felt his face grow hot, and he stared back into the steaming, foaming, roiling liquid of his untouched drinks. A moment later, a third appeared to join the other two, and shortly after that, a fourth. Not long after, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Cecil, starry-eyed and swaying slightly in his seat. 

"Wanna go dance now, Birdy-Butt?" he shouted over the music. Earl shook his head. Cecil frowned and lit a cigarette, then turned back to the older guy. Earl watched as he finished his current drink and the older guy replaced it, also adding a fifth drink to the increasingly-crowded bartop in front of Earl. The guy nodded toward Earl and said something to Cecil, who shrugged. 

There was a clatter from his other side as someone dropped his glass, which shattered all over the floor. Earl looked around to see if he could find a broom to clean up the mess, so no one would get hurt, but none was in sight. He was about to ask the bartender to find him one when he again felt a pressure on his shoulder, more insistent this time. He grunted with exasperation.

"Listen, Cecil, I don't feel like dancing right now!"

"I don't think Cecil feels much like dancing, either, cutie." It was the older guy. He started to massage Earl's shoulders. It should have felt good, but it just felt weird and gross. He looked to Cecil for support, but Cecil was slumped over the bar.

"Oh, uh, maybe I should take him home."

"Nah, nah, he's fine. Let him go. You look hot in your little uniform, you know that?" The older guy slipped his right hand down from Earl's shoulder and down to his chest, slipping under his sash, finding his nipple and tweaking it through his shirt. Earl thought he was going to throw up.

"Sir, please, I..." He tried to push the barstool away from the bar, but the guy was heavier than Earl was and was blocking him in. With his other hand, the guy picked up one of the drinks and held it up to Earl's mouth. 

"Here, baby, loosen up, have a drink."

Earl prepared to drive an elbow into the guy's midsection when a slender, tanned hand reached between them and pushed the drink away from Earl. Earl and the guy both turned, surprised. Cecil stood there, weaving. He grabbed the guy by the shirt collar and kissed him, hard.

"C'mon, **Randy** , let's go dance."

_You don't know how long you've been out, but when you wake up, you see the douchecanoe hitting on Earl, Earl looking sick and scared. No. No no no. This was not how things were supposed to go down. You've fucked up again. You've fucked up again, bad. You have to save him._

_You're still a little hazy from the strong drinks, but you manage to insert yourself between Earl and the steaming tumbler that would most likely have knocked him flat on his ass. You kiss "Randy," managing to keep yourself from throwing up into his mouth. You drag him to the dance floor and grind against him, shuddering as his hands cup your ass. He leans into you and growls._

_"Why'd you bust up a good thing, Cecil?" He pinches your cheek painfully._

_"I wanted you all to myself," you lie as you let him worm his hand between your pants and your skin, gritting your teeth as his fingers start to play with the cleft of your ass._

_"Oh, babydoll, there's more than enough of me to go around." He presses his cock against you as if you're supposed to be impressed by his entirely-unimpressive erection._

_"I don't like to share."_

_"Well, you know, I don't really care what you like. I spent a lot of money on the two of you, you know."_

_Tears come to your eyes as he forces the tip of his finger inside of you. He has a hangnail. Motherfucker. You bite your lip and make yourself look him in the eye._

_"Listen, Randy. Please, please, just leave Earl alone. He's... he's not like me."_

_"What, he doesn't like dick?"_

_"Uhhh, well, that's not what I meant."_

_"Well, what did you mean, Ceeee-suhhhl? Don't tell me I wasted all those drinks." There's more than a touch of nastiness in his voice now._

_"I mean, he's... He's not like me. He's a good person. He's_ **not like me** _." You stick the tip of your tongue into his ear canal and taste wax. Ew. Cotton swabs are a thing, buddy, look into it._

_Randy groans just like you were hoping he would. "So you're the bad one, huh?"_

_"Uh-huh."_

_"Wanna show me just how bad?"_

_You force your mouth into a smile. "I'd be delighted." Mercifully, he extracts his hand from your ass crack and firmly grasps the back of your neck, leading you from the dance floor and to the men's room._

Earl was thoroughly miserable as he watched Cecil and the man on the dance floor. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful that the man had left him alone, but Gods, how Cecil had thrown himself at him! The guy really wasn't that attractive at all, he was actually kind of disgusting, but still Cecil had chosen him over Earl. He'd always choose anyone over Earl, apparently. He'd been so right to leave town for school. His mistake had been coming back. 

He felt a presence at his side and tensed, ready to punch whoever it was, then loosened his fist when he saw it was a skinny girl with big eyes and bright pink hair and a lip piercing. She didn't seem to be much of a threat. In fact, she was kind of cute. She grabbed his arm.

"Ohmigod, are you Earl Harlan?"

He sat up a little straighter. "Yeah, yeah I am." Evidently, his reputation had gotten around.

"I thought so. My name's Violet. I went to school with your sister."

"Oh? That's nice."

"Ohmigod, this is a gay bar. Are you gay?"

"Well, I, uh..."

"I _totally_ knew it. Ohmigod, we're going to be best friends." She gasped a fruity rum gasp into Earl's face. "We should totally go shopping. Let's go shopping!"

"I don't really like --"

"Ohmigod, I love your outfit, it's so fun! Oh, but you have to let me hem those shorts for you, make 'em real booty shorts. It'd be _totally_ funky."

Earl flushed. He'd put up with a lot, but enough was enough. He stood and looked down at the small girl. 

"Ma'am, I'd thank you to have some respect for the uniform," he declared with all the dignity he could muster, then spun on his heel and fled for the safety of the men's room.

_Randy propels you through the swinging door. All the stalls are taken, but he doesn't seem to care. He presses on your shoulders, and you get the hint and drop to your knees. He unzips his fly and pulls out a nasty little hairy penis that you set upon like it's an ice pop on the hottest day of summer. He groans appreciatively and grabs the back of your head, fucking forward into your mouth without grace or preamble. His toupee shifts back and forth on his head with his thrusts._

_You calm your gag reflex. You relax. You close your eyes and let yourself be used. You hate him. You hate yourself. You do not imagine you are somewhere else. You are exactly where you belong._

Earl opened the door to the men's room, but stopped short. His eyes took everything in, and his heart dropped to the wet, grimy tile floor and broke into a million pieces. 

The man was there. Cecil was there, back to the door, on his knees in front of the man. The man's head lolled back in pleasure and as it did, he saw Earl standing in the doorway. The man winked. Earl turned, walked slowly back through the club, out the door, and to his truck. He sat behind the wheel and waited for the tears to fall, but none came. He shook his head. Maybe he'd cried all the tears he had for Cecil.

He considered leaving and letting Cecil find his own way home, see if that nasty new boyfriend of his would give him a ride. But he knew he couldn't do that. A Scout didn't abandon his friend, even if that friend was a grade-A, gold-plated jerk. 

Of course, that didn't mean that he couldn't get something out of this whole shitty experience. If Cecil asked him in, maybe he'd say yes. Maybe he'd go inside and screw his brains out. Maybe when he was done, he'd get up, get dressed, get into his truck and drive and drive until he ran out of gas and never, ever speak to Cecil again. Yes. That was exactly what he'd do. 

The dome light turned on and Cecil slipped into the passenger seat.

_You slump against the door rather than leaning against Earl this time. You're so dirty, and he's so clean. You'd just smudge him if you touched him._

_"Hey, Early Bird." Your voice comes out in a croak._

_"Don't fucking call me that," he hisses. His face is angry. You've never seen him so angry. You keep your mouth shut and watch the streets pass by. There's a nasty, bitter taste in your mouth, stains on the knees of your pants, and a yawning void in your soul._

_"I don't feel good," you say after a while._

_"Well, maybe if you didn't get wasted, you'd feel better."_

_"You're probably right."_

_"Are you going to puke? 'Cause if you are, and you don't tell me, and you puke in here, I swear to the Gods..."_

_"No, I'll be fine, I promise." You pull your knees up to your chest and make yourself very small and say nothing more until Earl parks in front of your apartment building. You mumble a thanks and start to get out, but you're stopped by a hand on your arm._

_"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Earl asks. You look up at him, surprised. His eyes are cold, so cold._

_"Sure," you say, mouth dry. You owe him this, after all that you've done. You get out of the truck, and he gets out of the truck, and you walk in silence up the stairs to the apartment. You grab some clothes off the nearest pile._

_"I'm going to the bathroom, be right back, okay?"_

_Earl snarls. "Try not to blow anyone while you're in there, will you?"_

_He knows. You feel like you've been slapped. You don't have anything to say, so you nod, then slip out the door and down the hall to the shared bathroom._

As soon as the door closed behind Cecil, Earl allowed his shoulders to slouch and his face to fall from haughty anger to the bone-deep sadness that lurked behind it. How the hell had they gotten like this? He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Oh, well, at least now he knew. They could never have had something. 

He sat down heavily on the mattress on Cecil's floor and began to ease out of his boots. He pulled them off and flexed his aching toes, then set them down next to him. As he did, his eyes fell on a neat pile of letters. He recognized the handwriting. Cecil hadn't lost them after all. He picked them up. None of them were opened. Why had Cecil lied to him?

He set them back down hurriedly when Cecil came through the door. His face was scrubbed clean, and he'd changed out of his party clothes into plaid flannel pajama pants and a familiar grey sweatshirt. He was wearing his glasses. He kept his gaze focused on the floor and shuffled over to his bed, then sat down cross-legged on the corner of the mattress.

Earl swallowed hard. "Cee, I..."

"Everything's fucked, Early," Cecil mumbled, staring down at his hands. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, it broke my heart when you left and I've been alone, and I screw up, and I keep screwing up, and everything is just entirely fucked."

"Cee..."

"And I care so much about you, but all I do is hurt you and make you go away, and it's all a Godsdamn mess and I can't get out. And you're going to go, and I'll never see you, and I'll be all alone again, and it's exactly what I deserve."

Earl looked at him and saw him, really and truly saw him for the first time that evening, saw that underneath the pleather and the glitter and the bravado he was still Cecil, the same Cecil who sometimes worried that the sun might not come up in the morning or that the world was all a cruel illusion, but who was most scared of being alone. The same Cecil who craved security and constancy even though he'd never tasted it. His Cecil. He reached for him, arms open.

"Cee, come here."

Cecil looked up at him over the rims of his glasses, hesitant. "Are -- Are you sure? After everything?"

"I'm sure. Come on now, don't leave me hanging." 

Cecil cracked a watery smile and leaned into his arms, and Earl brought them both down gently to the mattress. Cecil rolled to face him and kissed him. Earl kissed him back, but then drew back when he tried to deepen the kiss. 

"Not right now, Cee. You don't have to do anything to make me stay. I just... I just need you to hold me right now, okay?"

Cecil buried his head into Earl's shoulder. "I need that too. Thank you, Earl."

"There's nothing to thank me for. This is exactly where I want to be. And hey, there's plenty of time, right? We can screw like bunnies in the morning."

Cecil snickered. "Sounds good to me. How long are you going to be home?"

"About a month, but a month's a long time. We can pack a lot into a month. And then I'll only be gone for a little while longer, and after that, I'll be home again for good."

"Really?" Cecil asked with unconcealed joy. Earl nodded, and Cecil pressed another gentle kiss to his lips. "If you're coming back, I can be good. I **will** be good, I promise."

"I appreciate that. And I'll write to you every day, if you promise to actually read what I write and write back to me, okay?"

"Okay." He was quiet for a moment. "Early?"

"Yeah?"

"I was thinking about maybe trying to go to Europe this summer, but if you're going to be home, maybe I should stay here."

"Oh, Gods, no, Cecil, you should go! You've always wanted to see Svitz in the summertime. I'll miss you, but I'll be okay. I'll wait for you, just like you're going to wait for me."

"If you're sure."

"I'm sure." He yawned. "Now let's get to sleep. We're going to need to save our energy." He nuzzled the side of Cecil's neck, and Cecil gave a sigh of contentment.

_You lay there for a moment, then you get up and turn out the lights and settle back down on the mattress. You curl up so that your back presses into his chest, and you pull the blankets up around the two of you. You let the quiet settle around you._

_"I love you, Early Bird," you whisper into the darkness. He snores softly. You listen to him breathe for a moment, then take off your glasses and close your eyes and wait for the morning, when maybe, just maybe, you'll feel brave enough to tell him again._

**Author's Note:**

> Like the fic? If so, come howl at the void with me at punkrockgaia.tumblr.com.


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